A Dead God's Tear(77)

Marcius let out a yell of surprise, stumbling over his own feet to crash hard to the ground. He scrambled backwards. Would people ever know what happened to him? Wasn't the amulet supposed to protect him?

His feet slipped again on the cold clammy ground and he closed his eyes, waiting on the inevitable. There was a moist sound, like a knife plunging into a fruit, and he was bathed in a sticky hot liquid. The smell! It was atrocious, filling his nostrils with a sickly acrid scent of burnt vomit. He tentatively opened his eyes, using his forearm to wipe the dripping liquid from his face.

The head was skull-like, ivory in color, with protrusions that came down from the mouth like exterior teeth. The monster was staring at him, the unnatural glowing emerald eyes dimming, and it looked as confused as he was.

Marcius glanced down and saw the point of something sticking out of the beast's chest. It was then that he realized the liquid on him was the creature's blood. There was a wet squelch as the object was removed from the monster's chest and after a moment where it seemed to hang, it crumpled to the ground with a groan, its misshapen clawed arms twitching.

And in its place, like an avatar made real, was Selene. Marcius blinked twice, not fully believing what he saw. She was in full battle gear, practical equipment that was more about functionality, but contained with it a certain beauty of purpose. The woman glowed from atop her ethereal spirit beast, the horse-like creature a perfect fit for the pale landscape that was the Myst.

Selene lowered her lance, fixing her stare on Marcius, "Human," and he flinched at the anger behind her voice, "What are you doing out here?"

His ears felt hot as the indignation at her, at everything, finally came to a head. "Why does it matter to you? If I die out here, it'll just save you the problem of what to do with me, right? I should ask why you are out here, if it would have been better to kill me instead? You're a liar and you just strung me along this entire time. I can't believe I thought we were friends. Only thing I've gotten since I've been here is the knowledge that I am not an elf, as if I didn't know it."

Her eyebrow rose. "What do you speak of? When have I done these things?"

Marcius didn't feel like stopping. "When you met the Elders today."

This time the shock on her face was genuine and Marcius felt perverse self-satisfaction at having surprised the implacable elf. But she shook her head, throwing his accusations away. "We will speak of this when we are under safer circumstances. Come, we must go back quickly before more Myst beasts smell the blood."

Marcius opened his mouth to say something particularly nasty when that low grinding sound, the shifting of dirt and rocks, once again rang out over the still air and this time there was clearly more than just one. He and Selene exchanged knowing glances and he was quick to grab her offered hand, his shoulder protesting as he was yanked forcibly up beside her.

Too late! Their squealing steed reared up as the ground burst all around them. Marcius's grip faltered and Selene's hand shot out, attempting to reel him back. Surprisingly, she managed to keep him from falling, though it wasn't enough to stop the bucking animal from jarring every bone in his body.

In an amazing display of agility, the mount veered to the right as yet another attacker burst from the ground and the spirit beast began to pick up speed, dodging lashes of tail and claw.

One of the monsters managed to maneuver itself in front of them and at the speed they were going there was no way they could have avoided it. So Selene didn't even try. Instead, bringing her deadly lance to bear. It slammed into the creature's chest, impaling it. Selene just let it fall, stuck in the body, a bloody flag. Out darted her sword and she took out another beast's eye as they passed.

They didn't see the other creature before it leapt from the Myst, crashing into them and tossing the spirit beast aside like an errant child. Amazingly, the steed managed to twist itself upright midair. It was then that Marcius's grip faltered, his fingers slipping on Selene's armor.

The world spun as he flew, and he was aware of the feeling of falling, of timelessness. He hit the ground hard, with a shock that reverberated through his body, bouncing as he skidded. Marcius's vision blacked out, and he shifted in and out of consciousness.

His extremities felt as if they were weighted with boulders, and all he wanted to do was sleep, but his body acted of its own accord. He wasn't sure if it was merely adrenaline or force of will, but Marcius pushed and strained against the shackles that kept him in place. He conquered the wave of dizziness long enough to look up and see Selene spring from the cluster of rolling bodies like a cat, dodging limb and claw as the monsters tore into the spirit beast with abandon.

Marcius barely had time to realize that she was running right at him before her hand was already under his armpit, heaving him to his feet. "Run," she growled. Marcius stumbled after her, risking a brief glance at the grisly scene behind him.

The spirit beast no longer moved.

He wasn't sure how far he ran, but he couldn't help but to collapse in relief when the lithe elf finally stopped. She had other ideas besides his rest, stopping and presenting her back to him. "Help me out of this armor."

"What?" he could slap himself with how inane he sounded, but he was too tired to care at the moment. Everything was caving in.

She glared back at him with a look of strained patience. "I am unable to undo the straps myself. The scent of blood is still on the armor and they will find us unless we get rid of this."

"Oh." And it was then that he noticed the crooked angle her left arm hung, and the way she favored it. Obviously it had broken in the fall, but she showed no outward sign of pain. Though the closer he looked, he noticed a thin film of sweat hung on her brow and her skin was paler than usual.

He moved behind her, reaching nervously for the straps that held the armor together. She made no move to stop him so, with increased confidence, he started unhooking the thick buckles, trying to be as delicate as possible. Marcius knew it was inappropriate, considering their environment and situation, but he couldn't stop himself from the thought that the whole action was erotic. The tips of his ears grew hot at the thought of essentially undressing the elf.

For his credit, he did try to avert his eyes.

Selene let out a hiss of relief as the final strap was unhooked, relieving her shoulder of the majority of the weight. He was surprised at the bulkiness of the armor; it was heavier than he expected. He couldn't imagine the fortitude that it took to do what she had just done with a broken arm to compound it.

"Throw it away and let us continue. We must find a shelter. It is the only choice of we have," Selene commanded as she took a knife from her belt and cut a piece of cloth off the under-armor padding she wore. There was a sickening sound as she set the bone and then she wove the piece around her head to fashion a makeshift sling for her arm.

Marcius dropped the armor with little ceremony, his stomach a little uneasy. "What about your sword? It would also have blood on it."

"I threw it as we ran," Selene said. "Come, we should get going, away from the armor and the fight."

She set off with Marcius in tow. They didn't say much as they walked. The pace she had set was blistering, and soon his haggard breathing was the only sound that broke the silence. There was aimlessness to her travel that he had never seen before. The walls of Myst were closing in and he struggled to keep her in sight, the icy grip of fear beginning to gnaw that the edges of his thoughts.

"Selene. . . are you alright?" he asked between huffs, his breath visible in the chill.

The elf stopped. "Yes. I'm fine." But he knew from the way her voice cracked that it was a lie. She started walking and then stopped again. "He was my friend. . . " she whispered, as much to herself as him.

"Who was?"

She wasn't even paying attention to him anymore, and he approached her cautiously. Tears framed her eyes. "He died to save us."

It became clear for Marcius. "You mean the. . . spirit beast?"

She didn't respond and all the anger, all the resentment he felt melted away at the honest expression of pain on the woman's face. His heart went out to her, and he was moving before he could even stop to think about what he was doing. Marcius cocooned the elven woman into his arms, drawing her close as the sobs came. It was a pleasant surprise that she didn't resist. He wasn't too sure what to do with his hands, so he just rubbed her back; something he hoped brought Selene at least a small level of comfort.

Hesitatingly, he rested his chin on the top of her head, drinking in the heady mix of scents that was so uniquely her. This whole situation was ridiculous, he realized, still amazed at even being allowed to hold the woman in his arms. They stood in the middle of an endless field of gray, the air heavy and laden with the humidity of the Myst. Nameless monsters lurked in the corners of their vision, waiting and willing to pounce, to tear the life from their bones. And yet, through it all, here they stood, two beings, two people, from vastly different worlds, comforting each other.
     
 

     

He found, at the moment, that he didn't give a damn about what lurked in the Myst.

But Selene was the first one to push away, and he looked down on her questionably. "What is that in your pouch?" she asked, wiping away a tear.